Frozen Sword
by felixkawaii
Summary: AU:The Titans have risen. Great danger stirs, but the Gods are powerless - they're too late. Olympus has been forced into closure, immortals around the world recalled, threatened by the Titans who hold the fate of billions of innocent mortals in their hands. But Hestia has one last blade. 13 soldiers will take to the stage. A single wall standing between this world and destruction.
1. Prologue: Extraordinary

_**'Frozen Sword' **_**by Felix Kawaii**

AU: The Titans have risen from the pits of Tartarus. Great danger is stirring, but the Gods can do nothing - they are too late. Olympus has been forced into closure, the immortals all around the world recalled, blackmailed by the Titans who hold the fate of billions of innocent mortals in their hands. Still, peacemaking Hestia has been busy. She has prepared for this day. In times of trouble, thirteen not so hardened soldiers will take to the stage. And they are all that stands between this world and destruction._ **  
**_

* * *

**Prologue**

**Θανμαστóς – Extraordinary**

Before he had even been born, Sally Jackson knew the swell in her stomach would be something, someone extraordinary. This belief wasn't formed by the glow of pregnancy and the excitement of being a mother, as one might expect. After all, it was only natural that every mother wanted their child to be someone above others. No, this faith in her unborn child was instilled from day one; the swirling, bubbling feeling in her womb when she rested her hand on the bump, the violent tendencies of serious morning sickness that crippled her most days and the staggering heaps of blueberries her body (and growing child) craved.

During pregnancy, she spent many of her days confined in a hospital bed, perhaps due to the side effects for having a child with a god, so when her son came a whole month before he was due, there were plenty of well-equipped staff on hand. Perseus Noah Jackson was born in the small hours of a cold Thursday morning. Sally hadn't even been able to give birth to him naturally, nor conscious to see him but powerful contractions before sedation had been more than enough to confirm to the little fluttering in her chest. Her son was a special, amazing boy.

And yet despite this, Percy's father was not keeping vigil by her bedside as she recovered from her cesarean section and he was not watching over their child in intensive care either where the tiny, frail body of her son had been hooked up to a machine. She wanted to hate him, for taking her writing career away, for messing her plans for the future up, for taking those dreams she'd treasured and worked for since a child and crumple it to ash. She should have hated him, she wanted to; for catching her eye on that beach in Montauk, for telling her that he loved her while he was already married, for being a god, for making her fall in love with him. Yes, Sally knew. She loved Poseidon. That fateful day on the sand, as he strode along the beach proudly, he was beautiful and he made her feel beautiful too. He had called her his Queen, promised to build a paradise under the sea where they could live – away from the prying eyes of the Fates – and raise their child. Perhaps, if she hadn't been so stubborn (a quality which he had said he loved about her) about staying in the mortal world, fighting her own battles, being human – perhaps, she would not have lost him to another world and her son would not have to grow up fatherless. She clutched the armrests of the wheel chair, her forehead resting against the cool glass pane that separated mother and child. The heart monitor wired to cot three beeped sporadically.

He already had a few curly black tufts sprouting from such a small head but the eyes… bright green. Just like his father's. Sally choked down the lump in her throat as her eyes grew misty.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and it took all the twenty-two year old's strength to drag her eyes away from her son. Her son. The nurse standing there smiled sympathetically, " I've brought your son's birth certificate." She handed over a black clipboard.

Wordlessly, Sally took it from her and scribbled her name in the box. Her eyes unconsciously avoided the blank next to it. For the child's father.

The nurse took it back. "Perseus Noah Jackson," She commented, catching Sally's attention. "Perseus… Noah…" She ran the name over once more. "It's unique _and_ cute! I like it!" Her eyes drifted to the weak, closed-eyed baby in cot number three. "Don't worry, Ms," She spoke softly, like she understood. "He'll be fine. Your kid's a fighter, I can tell."

Oh how right she'd been. Another month later and Percy was released from hospital, a perfectly happy, hyperactive, albeit small baby. For a year they lived uneventfully. She called in favors from friends and lived in their spare rooms at college, but Sally wanted to fight her own battles – she couldn't keep relying on other. Reluctantly, she placed Percy in preschool and went round job hunting. Still, just because you wanted them didn't always mean you got results. There was no way any sort of publisher or newspaper would want to hire her now. It pretty much made her English Literature degree useless, even though she had only been halfway through it before she'd been asked to leave school. Her college didn't want a pregnant student wandering the halls and small time businesses wouldn't hire her either. After a while she learned not to bring Percy when inquiring for a job. It was difficult though, much harder than she had first thought. Nobody wanted a college drop-out, with no real qualifications and barely any work experience. It was hard fact. And something Sally quickly realized and grudgingly accepted.

Life was not fair.

This was what she had discovered in the short space of three years. Falling in love didn't mean forever. Education wasn't for everyone. While her friends were graduating with diplomas in their hands, she would always be the one taking the picture but not able to join in. It hurt how people she had been so close with, drifted away, averted their eyes or just pretend they didn't see her.

Finally after long months of searching and running out of favours, she got lucky. Or perhaps Mercury had pitied her - with the gods it was always difficult to tell. She had found a job at a quiet Italian café. To be honest, the place was only popular with the locals, the pay wasn't much and adding herself to the workforce, Sally had to admit it felt over staffed. The old couple who owned the place gave her a small room upstairs and Sally didn't think she'd ever felt so grateful. Even in the middle of the night when two year old Percy would wake up crying, they never said a word.

Despite her struggles, she never forgot those feelings of pride and faith she had felt while she had been pregnant. Her son would be something amazing.

On September Fourth, Sally locked up after closing time by herself. The di Arello's had gone to visit their daughter after lunch and nobody had come in. She walked down the sidewalk, tired from the long day as the shadows lengthened, but there was a spring in her step. She was going to see Percy.

Sally entered the Pre-K building in a good mood. She pushed open the door and greeted Percy's teacher happily. The plump woman offered to show her the way but she waved her off. It wasn't too far.

After that it had been a blur.

She remembered walking into the brightly colored room before her legs were tackled by her bright-eyed, three-year old son. "Mommy!" He squealed as she tickled his sides, their laughter infectious as it echoed through the empty room. The other children had gone by now.

"Did you miss me?" She cooed and tapped his little nose with her finger.

"Mhmm," Percy nodded eagerly, "Mommy, look! M'found it!" He held up a short green rope in his hand for her to see. She stroked his hair absentmindedly, "Look Mommy! It has eyes!"

Sally's own eyes snapped to the limp, scaly rope in his pudgy fingers. Oh, it had eyes alright.

She screamed and tore the snake from the toddlers grasp with as much force as she could. She snatched Percy off the ground and backed away near the door as fast as possible. It was like a horror movie. When she looked down at him, incredulous at the scene that had just happened, she found him crying. Her outburst had scared him and he was hugging her tightly and sobbing into her sweater. Sally herself wanted to cry, but she stroked his head softly and hummed comforting words in his ears.

The preschool teacher opened the door, probably having heard the scream, and stared at the scene in horror. She opened her mouth to warn them about the snake but Sally hushed her.

"He's asleep."

That was the first time she realized that the extraordinary part of her son was also sinister and dangerous. He was only three but whoever wanted him dead took him as a threat. It terrified her. Made her question everything. Who was better: mortals or gods? Would Percy have been safer living with his father? She caught herself once or twice, wondering what Poseidon was doing about it or if he knew about the incident at all but she knew better than to dwell on things that she would never get an answer to.

She also knew, however, that this was just the beginning. More dangerous threats could take Percy away from her. And she would be utterly powerless, powerless to stop it.

Six years later, she proved right. Sally Jackson died August nineteenth, struggling stubbornly against the force of the tide.

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**A/N: There will be another chapter next week, hopefully. Some feedback would be nice: was it too confusing? Any tips?**

**If anyone's interested, I'm looking for a beta at the moment. You don't have to be registered as one, but I'd prefer if you were a native English speaker and/or someone who has experience writing (on ff or not).**

**Thanks for reading!**

**x**


	2. Chapter 1: The Eye

**The Eye**

**δράκος**

The Eye was the best place to be, Graham knew that. If you dropped that name in a conversation, you'd either have people kissing your feet or running for their lives. It was so undercover, so secretive and yet, it had exploded from nowhere – like a virus, right the way across the whole of America. Organised crime – as the cops called it – at its very best.

Graham wasn't anyone special. Born in eighty six. Went to school for a while. Quit school. Like many of the other lads he spoke to, he was also broke. His name (Graham, for god's sakes!) was almost a symbolism of that. Just a normal guy. But that was why he was sitting in the van, driving towards the bank. He didn't want to be normal, a speck of dirt on the pavement, anymore. He was sick and tired of that. He wanted change. Something big.

At first, he laughed when one of his mates muttered something about an 'eye'. It was a stupid name, they might as well have called it 'the mouth'. But that same friend was now powerful, and rich, and had a dozen girls on each arm. There were cops trailing him too, but the point was clear – and the pros outweighed the cons. The Eye would empower him.

He would never be a nobody again.

Graham Mathews pulled the black balaclava over his head as they pulled into the car park. There were three men in the van with him, Perry, Felix and Gavin. They were the same. Background people that wanted a change in line-up. He grinned. They would just pop in, fire a few shots, and come out loaded with cash. Perry would stay in the car, and everything would go smoothly.

He flicked the safety off and pulled his hood up, then slipped the handgun into his pocket.

Time to go.

* * *

The Alpha team and the Omega team stormed out of two different vans, but immediately began arguing with each other. It was their only day off in the whole year and instead of partying the day away, they were at the bank because one of them had forgotten to take cash out to buy stuff. They were the two largest units in the C-Squadron of the Delta Force, but also the youngest members ever to join special operations. All in all, there were eleven of them. Five in Alpha and six in Omega.

They entered the building like a pack but the squabbling continued. The bank employees glanced at each other nervously, wondering if they should kick the unruly youths out but the group strode up confidently to a booth, unaware of the eyes watching them, still bickering.

"May I help you, sir?" Asked the woman behind the glass, sweeping over the body of the young man in the front of the group. He was wearing beat up sneakers, but his jeans were tight fitting and his jacket looked completely new. What was even stranger was the dark purple mop of hair he tossed about proudly on top of his head.

The guy stared back at her, his eyes (an almost lilac colour) fell to her badge. He rolled his eyes, "Leanne, babe. I wouldn't be here if you couldn't."

"No, you'd be too busy drinking your heart out." Someone behind him said.

He whipped his head round, "Do you want to stay sober for the rest of the day?"

There was no reply.

"Thought not." He smiled and focused his attention on Leanne. "I need to take out some money."

The woman nodded stiffly and tapped at her computer. "Name?"

"Pollux Kern. Want my number too?"

She nodded.

"It's 078…"

"Your account number, sir."

"Oh!" He didn't reply however, and when Leanne looked up from the screen, she found he was not deep in thought, but staring at the customers who had just come in. A deep furrow marred his features.

Pollux watched the newcomers closely. There were three of them. Good sized guys. Hoods obscuring their faces. They were walking towards the ATM on the left side of the door, completely silently. Behind him Chase and Jackson were still arguing loudly, but their words were more thought out. They were wary of them too. If he were any other guy, Pollux would have dismissed his senses and paranoia and continued with his withdrawal.

But Pollux was far from that. He was the leader of the Alpha Squad and his eyes never missed anything. How the employees had been anxious to get them to leave. How despite her cold appearance, Leanne was actually enjoying being hit on. How the three had passed the four working ATMs outside, in favour of the one inside – closest to the door – on a perfectly clear day. Not only were they silent despite entering together, their shoulders were tense, posture stiff and their hands were shaking.

And there was a gun on all three of them.

He nudged Castellan next to him, keeping his expression controlled and flicked his eyes pointedly at the suspects' direction. The blond nodded and turned away.

"Sir?" The woman pressed. "Is something a matter?"

Schooling himself, he shook his head and laughed. "No, I just thought I recognized a mate." He grinned. "My account number's 29865456789876598765456."

She nodded and went back to her computer, "Just to confirm, you are Pollux Henry Kern, number: two… nine…eight…" She began. Leanne broke off as shots filled the air.

There was the sound of splintering glass. The glass separation in front of the booth cracked over, showering her in shards. Her colleagues' screams filled the air.

"Everybody on the floor!"

Pollux grimaced but obeyed and sank to his knees, not bothering to brush away blades of glass cutting into his legs but kept his eyes trained on the thieves. They were wearing balaclavas, waving the guns around and yelling out orders. He cursed. It was his day off, godammit.

He surveyed the room. Two of the booths were shattered. One of the men was rounding up the employees; the other two were firing warning shots. Amateurs. How many bullets did that leave them with? He met the eyes of his own squad and counted each pair of irises. Chase, Jackson, Gardener, Beauregard, Solace. Pollux gave a small sigh of relief. No injuries. The Omega team seemed to be doing fine as well.

But in the moment that he had taken his eyes off the aggressors, he had allowed his guard to drop, underestimating the robbers. One lunged forward and snatched Chase off the floor. In seconds he had his hand round her neck and his gun at her temple. Her gray eyes were widened in slight shock and her blonde hair was messy and ruffled. She swallowed.

"Leave her alone!" Jackson burst out immediately.

Castellan had his mouth open, a pained look on his face.

Multiple shots rang from different areas of the room. Only one found it's target, burying itself in the sixteen year old's arm.

Graham grinned as the cocky brat fell back from the force, clutching his arm. It was a shame his hands were full, or he would have corrected his companions' aim. The girl he was holding was slowly turning purple. He bit back a laugh. All that bullying as a child, Gorilla-Hands Graham, now that came in handy. One hand easily wrapped round her small neck. Perhaps earlier he might have been nervous, but now? With a hostage and cash in custody, there was no way the Eye would refuse them.

"Shut up!" He barked. "Fill the bag or…" He was cut off. Bullets rang out, ricocheting of walls. He turned, scowling, to glare at the two others.

His jaw went slack. One of the teens, a tall blond, had Gavin at gun point, kneeling on the floor. There was a dark stain on his accomplice's left thigh and his face was contorted into a warped sort of pained expression. The man's bulbous nose was scrunched up and his face was red.

On the opposite side, another teenager, a girl with black shoulder length hair, had Felix on the floor and a steadily growing pool of red at her feet. His other partner had not gotten quite so lucky.

Graham's heart rate quickened.

"Put the gun down," A purple haired guy stood up. "You're surrounded by trained men. Let the hostage go."

He backed away. As if. The moment his gun hit the floor, the police would swarm him – his life would be over. He glanced at the door. The police weren't outside, only inside. He could make it, take the girl instead, give her to the Eye to make up for leaving the money. Yes, it could work. Perry was still outside.

"Put the gun down," Purple-hair continued. "If you let her go, you can get a lighter sentence. A couple years and you'll be out again."

Graham hesitated. What if this was just a fruitless attempt? What if the Eye didn't want the girl? What if he was caught and thrown into prison for a lifetime? Panicking, he loosened his grip on the girl.

That was his mistake.

Immediately, she attacked. Her elbow dug hard into his ribs, making him let go of her completely. As she rolled out of his grip, pain exploded up his left side. Shots filled the air one last time as four bullets found their target – burying themselves in his flesh.

The man cried out. Then he slumped to the floor.

* * *

There was a silence in Chief Dare's office as he scrutinized them one by one. Jackson's arm was wrapped in a sling and Chase's neck still held visible bruises from the hostage attempt.

They were the youngest members of Homeland Security, Delta Force and Special Operations combined. And they were practically his own daughter's age. It was something that plagued his mind every day.

He spoke sternly, "You didn't display any specialties, did you?" There would be trouble if the public found out what these kids were.

"No, sir." Kern and Castellan answered at the same time.

Dare tapped his pen against his desk. "You can apply for leave when you want. Today will be counted as service. Jackson, I'm giving you tomorrow on leave, Chase, you can stay."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

They filed out silently, leaving the middle aged man to his own thoughts. If it were up to him, he would not be sending these kids out to Afghanistan next month. But orders were orders, and that was life.

Despite what he had said, it would be difficult for the two teams to apply for leave again. Their shipment next month would mean hectic schedules of training and paperwork, there would be no time. Besides, letting them loose outside the Fort was a threat to national security itself. It would take another year before their day-off to be cleared with all the higher-ups.

He sighed and filled out the thin file.

_Kern, Pollux. Leader of Team Alpha. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Jackson, Perseus. Sniper of Team Alpha Age: CLASSIFIED _

_Beauregarde, Silena. Negotiator of Team Alpha Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Gardner, Katie. Tracker of Team Alpha Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Chase, Annabeth. Tactician of Team Alpha Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Castellan, Luke. Leader of Team Omega. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Beckendorf, Charles. Technician of Team Omega. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Solace, Will. Medic of Team Alpha Age: CLASSIFIED _

_Grace, Thalia. Sniper of Team Omega. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Nightshade, Zoe. Navigator of Team Omega. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_La Rue, Clarisse. Tactician of Team Omega. Age: CLASSIFIED_

_Alpha and Omega are a part of Project Red Sigma. Its purpose is to [CLASSIFIED – MUST HAVE LEVEL TEN CLEARANCE]._

He folded the file and placed it back in his desk drawer. It was titanium lined, with lead-titanium alloy bolts and an electromagnetic lock. The only way it could be opened was with the Sergeant's key code and fingerprint.

The drawer slid shut. Sealed.


End file.
